Its the End of the World as We Know it (And I feel fine)
“World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed Tell me with Rapture and the reverent in the right, right You vitriolic patriotic, slam fight, bright light Feeling pretty psyched. It's the end of the world as we know it (It's time I had some time alone.)” - Michael Stipe
“Where life's river flows, no one really knows 'til someone's there to show the way to lasting love. Like the sun that shines, endlessly it shines, You always will be mine It's eternal love.” - Robert Knight - Carl Carlton - The Love Affair - Gloria Estefan
My mind dances on the tip of the microphone, ready to blast the legacy of humanity through this Bab'El radio.
But I can't.
I see the line where the sky meets the sea. It calls me.
But I don't know.
Doubt rages through me.
I don't know how far I'll go.
Seven years pass as I stand, unable to sing.
In my years of hesitation, I build six more radio ga-ga antennas equally spaced around Earth: on top of Mauna Kea, Hawaii, on Table Mountain, Cape Town, South Africa, along the ocean in Perth, Australia, above the Palace of Peace in Astana, Kazakhstan, and on the North Pole and the South Pole. Each tower juts through the stratosphere. Its antenna top kisses the mesosphere, truly scraping the sky, ready to echo into the great beyond.
I have turned Earth into one giant boom box, ready to blast the beats of humanity loud enough to rattle any species awake.
And finally, a voice from deep inside urges me.
Let it go. Let it go.
Don't hold it back anymore.
In each towers' core, I fuse isotopes of hydrogen, fueling a nuclear reaction more powerful than a thousand hydrogen bombs.
I can see the atoms split in two.
I can feel the planet shifting.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
I'm in the middle of a chain reaction, hungry for some intergalactic action.
The energy explodes, powering tightly-wound, high-frequency radio waves to blast from each antenna and blanket the galaxy for hundreds of light years before fading into the background.
I've launched satellites into space that reflect the radio waves further and stronger, pointing these at promising planetary systems.
I paint the sky with the electromagnetic spectrum somewhere under the rainbow, covering the universe with humanity's cosmic love.
Before the song begins, and between each set, I blast a sequence of prime numbers as a drum beat.
Let the beat drop!
2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37, 41, 43, 47, 53, 59, 61, 67, 71, 73, 79, 83, 89, 97, 101, 103, 107, 109, 113, 127, 131, 137, 149, 151.
This sequence screams “Hold Up!” Only an intelligent species could send these prime beats. These must be trying to get alien attention.
A church organ plays, and now, I begin the epic eulogy for my species.
“This is the hardest story, that I've ever told. No hope, no love, no glory. Happy Endings are gone forever more.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to get through this thing called life.
“Electric word life.
“It means forever and that's a mighty long time.”
The synthesizers and electric guitars rage.
Wrapped in my radio waves is the story of humanity, our triumphs and tragedies deconstructed and reconstructed. I layer this information beneath some of humanities most beloved songs. A mixtape that I will repeat at regular intervals.
Until someone hears me!
Even deeper among the waves, I provide the schematics for a machine to communicate back to Earth, to talk with me.
And further still, I twirl. All the quantum coding for replicating my mind, my personality, my emotions, my memories has been weaved deep into these waves. This communication takes on me.
My soul is in the sound.
Take on me.
Take on me.
Take me on.
Take on me.
I'll be gone---
I am full of the wisdom of humanity and ready to provide counsel to any species. If they are social beings, as I predict they are, I will have to subvert their social structure so they can best hear my warning. I hope they will eventually approve of my Sibyl attack.
How foolish humans were, to believe they could transport themselves from Earth through the galaxy or even to Mars. They couldn't accept their biological limitations. Their bodies were too heavy and too fragile to survive any intergalactic travel. They couldn't even imagine freeing themselves of their shells because they were obsessed with them.
I feel myself in the radio waves that now race through the solar system at the speed of light as I sing my prelude.
“I'm coming out!
“I want the world to know. Got to let it show.
“I'm spreading love, there is no need to fear.”
(Is it really me or am I just extrapolating the trajectory of the waves and forcing my system to feel myself in it? ... Shh! JA-NL, don't over think it.)
I feel a piece of me encrypted in the radio waves turn---
I turn to Earth and sing.
“I know you must follow the sun, wherever it leads.
“But remember, remember life holds for you one guarantee, you'll always have me.
“Ain't no star hot enough.
“Ain't no black hole low enough.
“Ain't no galaxy wide enough.
“To keep me,
“To keep me from you!”
My essence turns to the universe and sings the first words on my mixtape.
“Humanity is dead.
“Long live humanity!”